With These Eyes
by funanyaTHEmute
Summary: -On Hold- Not everyone sides with the morally inclined position of anti-Kira: there are some who just-so-happen to find Yagami Raito exactly what the world needs. MelloXOC
1. Prologue: Ecce Homo

**With These Eyes**

Prologue: Ecce Homo

**Disclaimer****: You know the drill. Ohba Tsugumi-san and Obata Takeshi-san have full rights to the plot and characters respectively. I am merely a devoted fan fawning over their ingenious creation.**

**Musical Theme/Inspiration****: **Ghost** by **Plastic Tree. **No joke, go out there RIGHT NOW and find this song. Not only is the sound amazing, but the lyrics just scream '**_**Death Note**_**.'**

* * *

_'He who fears the LORD has a secure fortress,_

_and for his children it will be a refuge.'_

_-_Proverbs 14:26

* * *

Kira.

It is a name that no man on Earth is unfamiliar with, never mind the non-existent possibility that it would be forgotten. There wouldn't ever be a soul alive capable of drawing a blank at the pseudonym. Kira would be written down in history with two interpretations of his greatness, both equally truthful in their view.

On one hand, Kira is a form of Allah, his hubris well placed and completely rightful. He passes judgment on the world and punishes those worthy of hell. Kira is our Father, the figure of power who succeeded alone in what millions of others had attempted: justice. With Kira around, criminals were given no mercy from their ill fates; Kira wouldn't waste time with useless court processions and acts of innocence. Sins are punished - that is law. Pure and simple.

Others see Kira as a murderer himself. It's hypocrisy to use his power to dispose of those who commit crimes (a crime in itself, of course.) These groups feared Kira for all that he is and stands for: a tyrant who broke past the limits of humanity and man kind. People who had intentions to hide, those in danger of Kira's watchful gaze - they were the ones with upturned noses, eyes darting over their shoulders at every possible moment. No one was safe because no one was perfect. Even the smallest slip of morals had the entire population sweating. Kira was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer on the loose, more terrifying than the men he hunted.

But if you cared to notice, there was one like term in each of those perspectives that was given as a synonym for the name Kira: power. Each side and every person could not deny that fact. Kira is power. Kira rules the Earth. Kira is unstoppable.

Human beings side with power - it's nothing more than basic animal instinct. People followed power and serve the powerful.

That is why I serve Kira, king of this new world of light. Kira is my Lord and Christ.

Kira is my God.

* * *

**(A/N) My first time writing a prologue :] The shortness of it killed me, but I thought it was necessary. I had way too long of a pre-story Author's Note to put in a full chapter.**

**Okay, now to the serious stuff:**

**This story is rated M because of it's language use, roughness and potentially uncomfortable concepts. Do NOT expect me to do any lemons (sex scenes.) I don't kow how descriptive I'll get with physical relationships later on, but I cannot for the life of me even imagine sitting in front of my computer and writing about two fictional characters... doing **_**that**_**. **

**...Although I do have a pesty little closet pervert side of me at times...**

**I do in no way mean ANY offence to those of you who follow religion ritually. The views of this story are strictly from my OC's characterization and don't directly reflect on my own personal feelings. Please don't blame me if you find anything said in this story insulting: you have been warned.**

**Connecting to the last point, this story will be looking at** _Death Note _**from a very religious point of view, specifically concerning Christianity. I'll be the first to say that I'm personally Irreligious, but I come in peace! I respect everyone's beliefs, even if they're not my own, and will never intentionally bash such an important aspect of life. Because it just sort of made sense to me to make a** _Death Note_ **story that really centered around the idea that Kira is God and would have his supporters more or less creating a new branch of religion for him, this story will involved just that. Obviously not growing up with any beliefs, I'll be studying up on all things Biblical to try and get my facts straight, but I'm pretty positive that I will make mistakes with my interpretations. Please tell me if I'm wrong with anything I say and do not take my ignorance as a personal attack :]**

**This story will be divided into two separate parts, both relatively short. Again, my only reasoning for this is to create some kind of impact with it since this fanfiction is a lot more on the serious side. Well, that and I couldn't choose between two titles... but that's a really lame backup xD**

**This is another sort of sissy note to make, but tags for this story are General and Romance. I played around with substituting Angst for General, but figured that General is more...well, general. But just to make sure, if angst is not your thing, this story might not be either.**

**Chapter One may not be out as soon as both you and I hope... I've got hundreds of years of religious history to cover and I'm determined to get a handle on it before I get too far into this story. I'm going to be researching all over the place like crazy for a while. I'll either be using the internet or my family's copy of the Bible for reference: I don't know if there'll be much questions as to where I'm getting my information from, so just in case, that's the answer. Wish me luck ;P**


	2. Chapter One: Zealots

**With These Eyes**

Chapter One: Zealots

* * *

_'Misofortune pursues the sinner,_

_but prosperity is the reward of the righteous.'_

Proverbs 13:21

* * *

The way I saw it, there were two kinds of people.

The innocent: children of god, children of Kira. The Lord's name brought a fearsome admiration that caused the guts to twist with a mix of worship and awe. The feeling of hearing his name was like having your soul lifted, pelvis jerking by some unknown force and finger tingling with imperious chills. There was no more realistic savior. Any other religion could preach their beliefs all they wanted but none of their self-proclaimed 'miracles' were as undeniable as the works of Kira; never before had a Messiah been so blatant. There was no fable or myth to this revolution - it was happening right before our eyes with no chance to deny. Scientists would just be proving that they were a bunch of well-paid bullshitters to try and find some logical explanation that didn't point to the supernatural (but then again in this day and age, who could really expect society's acceptance of something that couldn't be predicted or controlled?) There was no question or doubt as to Kira's power.

We all believed.

Then there were the guilty. Those who shook with desperate and terrified seizures, knowing there was now an absolute punishment for their errors. Never again could they run free and con their way out of justice while Kira was watching. They wouldn't be overlooked - those degenerates were just waiting ducks; vile, scurrying slime running from fate. There was no lying their way out of persecution. No, Kira would find them. Kira would enforce karma and deal out determinism.

Vengeance would be served.

And then, there was the type like me and my flock. The ones that didn't quite fit in with any of the two easily - we were just included in category number two by default to the biased and untrained eyes of society. We were the type that may not have been born under the best circumstances and were forced to flirt with that legendary 'wrong road' of life in order to get what we wanted out of this pitiful existence. We were the ones who, I'll admit it first right here and now, were cowards and ignorants. We knew we were street grubs and we accepted that, no wishful thinking or defensive sob stories. Hey, maybe we figured following this Kira guy was some way to turn over a new leaf and get one of those _Tabula Rosa_deals a little late in the game or something. But whatever it was, we looked up to Kira as our guide and protector. We knew we were skipping along on a thin line under his judgment of safe and damned, but maybe if we pledged our allegiances it would give us that extra oomph over to the cleansed side of man kind.

It sounded stupid, I know, but it was just the way things fell into place.

And so, we come to the crossroads: the two sides -or three, but let's just leave my cheery camaraderie out for the sake of simplicity- of the story (because there could never be just one secular party in agreement) facing Kira: psychotic mass murderer or or savior to all that is moral? Biased massacre or 'an eye for an eye'? Satan or Jehova?

Who knew, really. Maybe Kira himself thought all the attention was uncalled for and people should back off with their hysteria. Then again, perhaps he basked in all of the media attention and controversy. Us civilians could only choose our opinions individually and live our lives the way we judged.

But Kira's judgment was always ultimate.

There would always be those who followed his ideals and those who hid from them. We were humans and humans were incapable of accepting inferiority. At least in the days of colonial Puritanism when settlers believed in all of this Absolute Being shit they lived by that set law instead of trying to overthrow the aforementioned All Knowing Creator. Now-a-days, all of man kind was just some rotten race at who could destroy the world the fastest on their staircase to leadership.

If the world as a whole had to grant Kira one thing, at least his throne was marked only by the deaths of the useless. A politician could smile their way through any lies to get into office, but the outcome could never be so successful as Kira's abrupt and simple escalade. The way I saw it, Kira was the real deal God Almighty. What had Jesus ever done for me, really? Besides lure me into a false sense of security, I mean. Kira was the one with balls enough to take action, wasn't he? Why the hell would I bother with Christianity or Judaism or whatever when the true Big Guy was right in front of me? How the hell were people still against him?

If you looked at it Bibliacally, it was only obvious that Kira would have the group of jealous batsards sniffing to have him nailed to a cross. You could almost predict it happening. But then, or course, Kira wasn't such a push-over. He was THE God; Not some bearded poser who basked in all of the attention and didn't give a damn thing to his people, his 'children.'

Nah, Kira wouldn't ever die in such a pathetic way as Jesus Christ. Because Kira is better than that. Kira is greater than Christ.

Christ didn't exist at all. He never had. He was just some imaginary bozo man kind felt the need to amplify because they were too pathetic to live using their own minds. Because men, like it or not, needed something to look up to and fear. Otherwise the world could never be kept in check. And now that Kira has arrived to save us all, the only thing separating us from sanction was the opposed. The deicide people.

So they had to die. And it was my mission to get rid of them all. For Kira, to prove my devotion.

* * *

I had lived my life in the slums since the age of seven, when my parents were erased from the picture of my oh-so-perfect childhood. I won't go into details, but hopeful you've gotten enough of my personality from this narrative style I speak in to make some kind of theory for yourselves. But none of that mattered, the past. The only thing I, and you, should care about is the now. In present times, there was this old factory that had been abandoned after World War II that I (miserably) called home. I was never exactly sure what the place had hitherto been used for, but the military was know to do some pretty fucked up things: for all I knew, the very room I slept in could have been a torture chamber for captured Japanese prisoners of war. I tried not to think about that and pretend I was safe and happy in some mansion on the coast.

It didn't work.

I wasn't alone in that place, though. There were a few others. How many, exactly, I had no clue because I didn't really care at all to get to know them all. But there were the few main members of our group that I bothered to speak to, whether on my own terms or not. Again, I really couldn't care less to go into some lengthy explanation of each and every one of them for you. If you were worth anything at all, you could sit back and figure it out when the time came to meet them. Rest assured, if they had any major importance to the story they'll be decently visualized by the time their big moment comes. One thing I will tell you is what we called ourselves. We were somewhat of a mafia, though less notorious and affluent. We were more a a private mob: a gang. We watched out for each other because no one else would. We turned on each other if it gave us enough benefit. No one ever said we were perfect.

But what we were were Zealots - the zealous followers of God. And by God, I assume you've gotten by now that the title refers to Kira. We worked for him and him alone, to follow his will and accomplish his goal by any means necessary.

All strong words aside, we had our off days as well. The group and I really had nothing to do but lay around and wait for something exciting to happen on certain days, including the morning where you will meet me in just a few sentences. It was a dull day in the life of the unemployed.

I spent my time laying back on the moth-bitten mattress I slept on most nights, trying to ignore the putrid smell of mold and decay that filled the entire place. It was impossible to ever feel clean when the building you locked yourself in was dying from the inside out itself. We would need to find somewhere new to crash soon or all of the toxins would put us all six feet under.

I sighed. Sometimes it was a little hard to figure out why I even bothered living at all. At times like this, I was about as productive as some Hollywood movie-star: the both of us had virtually no talents that showed any genius, but one was up to their ears in opulence and the other struggling to get a meal a day. This world really was so screwed up I almost had to laugh. Those wealthy folks thought they were being so magnificent when they donated a few bucks to some Asian village, but they neglected the fact that their own home was filled with destitution. Their obsequious care was all for the media, in hopes that the deed would get back to Kira. It was all just an act of lavished, fulsome praise.

But I wasn't worried. Kira was beter than that - he was brillaint beyond compare. He would see right through the selfish generosity and know those who he could truly count on. I was one who he put his faith in; one who would gladly -had gladly- killed for his cause. I didn't need some flashy means of putting myself in the public eye - Kira's eyes were the only ones of any importance. His eyes saw all.

It seemed like all I did these days was contemplate my worth in Kira's eyes. I might not have been the healthiest way of life, but at least it was a reason to keep going.

I took a moment away from my brooding to scan my bedroom slowly. The place really was a dump. Plaster had fallen straight off the walls and left beams of wood from the frame work peaking through. If I could be bother to pick at the holes for a few minutes, I could pry my way right into the adjacent room.

I had begun pondering if it would be worth it to kick down the wall and take over the other space as well when the door was flung open with a bang, slamming into the wall and collapsing from its hinges on impact. The crash and clanging of the door on descent could have woken the dead when compared to the silence I had been sitting in. I stared down at the mass of splintered wood dully, taking in the fact that I would need to hang a sheet or something from now on. Slowly, I brought my gaze up to the man panting in the threshold, mouth agape as he awed his destruction.

"This better be important, Asher," I hummed in monotone. He had caught me in an ascetic mood. I hoped I had remembered his name correctly. Then again, maybe I didn't care.

Asher blinked, snapping his gaze up from the defiled door to my face. He gulped, recognizing the bitterness in my empty brown orbs. Wincing, the portly man rubbed the back of his head and averting his eyes. "Sorry 'bout that, Naz."

I brushed aside his apology without a second thought. "What is it? There has to be something big goin' down if you burst in here like that..."

He brightened up at the reminder, a lopsided grin coming onto his face. I sat up, getting the feeling that this was pressing enough for me to be upright.

"You'll never guess, Naz," Asher started off, tone like some school boy excited over his first date as he shuffled his feet. "Ya know that blast we hear 'round midnight? It was that mofia hide-out! Ya know, the one down on Clydown Avenue? Blew right up! Guess the FBI got involved or somethin' and torched 'em all..."

Good riddence. My brow raised. "And? What does that have to do with us?"

The young man (around twenty-five years old or so, but as immature as if he were thirteen) leered from across the room. "We're goin' raiding, see if we can scrounge up some drugs or something'. You in?"

I held back a snort. He was so simple-minded, that one. His naivety was both astounding and endearing. Didn't he realize that we could go after so much more than that? Never settle for what's given to you - it was the simple, universal rule of man kind. Reach farther and go as far as Kira would allow.

"Sure, I'm in," I smirked. "But not for any drugs."

Asher tilted his head dubiously. "Huh? Wha'else ya gonna find? If the place got blown up, there can't be any cash left from the fire. We'll be lucky if we even find a little bit of coke or somethin'..."

His face slowly steadied into realization as he recognized my expression.

"Yer plottin' somethin'," he stated. Rightfully, his eyes narrowed in apprehension. "What're ya thinkin'?"

I shook my head, rolling off of the sorry excuse for a bed and stretching the kinks out of my back. My fingers made contact with some tendrils of cinnamon colored hair flowing over my shoulders. Lips curling in disgust, I grabbed a length of twine that had been sitting on a small, dilapidated dresser and hastened to knot the mass of oil and grime up and away from my face. Shit, I _really_ needed a shower.

Brushing off my plain clothing from any residual dust, I straightened and made my way towards the door-less doorway. "Let's go round up the others. The more the merrier."

* * *

Surprisingly, the mafia base didn't seem to have been in much better condition than our own before the explosion. Even if the remaining structure was damage from huge amounts of smoke and ash, the place couldn't have been anything special when it was still standing tall. Most of the structure was more or less intact - there were only a few areas, namely any entrances and exits, to the building that had been totally demolished, but main areas of inner workplaces were almost untouched, it seemed. Well, when you looked past all the blood stains and remains of cadavers, I mean.

Those that had come surged into the edifice without further command, whooping in delight at the oportunity presented to them. I had no doubt that most would go home tonight empty handed, but I guess what little treasure they found would have them grateful for a while. Either that or a majority would just be glad enough to get out of the house and have this much of a thrill. I didn't particularly care for their reasoning, because I had intentions of my own while I was here.

Sauntering down all of these unfamiliar hallways, I was in search of two things: both a bathroom and a control room. Like I had said, I was in appalling need of a good wash and the plumbing in this place had given me high hopes of cleanliness. The second was far more pressing, though. I wasn't an idiot. The FBI didn't just seek out and bomb street gangs for the usual busts - I knew the drill. They police would barge in, point guns, all of that predicable stuff - but setting off explosives was out of the ordinary. The only reason for this level of abolition was something big - something really big. And I intended to find out what that was.

But it just so happened one of the first recognizeable expanse I came across was a bathroom. I was probably just as thrilled to see it as I would to uncover a million bucks. I was even more elated when I tested to faucets and found that they worked fairly well: the water was cold, discolored, and spitting out at a low pressure, but it could have been a waterfall in the middle of a tropical jungle paradise for all I cared. They even had soap. Bless them, those stupid fags.

I finished my business, feeling more fresh and determined than I had in weeks, and returned to my hunt. I wasn't exactly sure what I should have been looking for, but I figured computers would be a good start. I was no technological prodigy, but I had figured out the basics of turning the things on and reading whatever information I could get out of them. If that plan was a no-go, I could always just snoop through all of the personal rooms and look for anything of use to me. Diaries, addresses, names, pictures - whatever. It didn't matter to me. All I wanted was the slightest lead to a little adventure.

"You're not going to find anything, Naz."

Against my better judgment, I didn't hold back when my shoulders stiffened. It was dangerous to show distress, but among my own kind it wasn't such a deadly mistake for the time being - I had nothing of value on me at the moment. I looked over my shoulder, watching as Micah walked up the hall and joined my side. We each stared at the other wordlessly, holding our own ground. Micah was the first to break the stiff silence, crossing his arms and leaning up against a crumbling wall.

"We've already searched the entire place while you were cleaning up," he specified dutifully. I didn't bother to ask how they knew it was me taking advantage of the working pipes, not really caring if some slimebag had walked in and had a good show. "There was some kind of control room or something -tons of computes, surveillance cameras, televisions, you know- but everything was too fried to hack into - most of it was melted down completely. Other than that, the place is just an empty carcass ready to be torn down."

I exhaled. It wasn't surprised, I suppose, but more disappointed. I had hoped to find some kind of treasure map of sorts, but I had only gotten my first scrub-down in the past month. I would have to be thankful for that and appreciate Kira for allowing me as much.

"Listen, Naz," Micah sighed. I eyed him wordlessly. He was one of the more influential members of the gang, both trustworthy and suspicious in my eyes. I could rarely distinguish whether what I felt for him was keen alertness or something more lethal. "We both know that this wasn't some ordinary arson. There was some big job going on around here and the police were desperate enough to resort to these kind of measures to get rid of. Whatever secret was hiding out is probably in thousands of pieces by now."

He didn't need to tell me that. I knew as much. Just because I was a woman didn't mean I needed everything spelled out for me in such sympathetic tones.

The tall, bearded man regarded my blank face wearily. "We didn't hit anything here, but trust me - Kira's going to be rewarding us soon. Especially you, Naz: we both know you've sacrificed more than any of us for Kira; he won't let that go unnoticed. You'll get your reward as soon as Kira finds something suitable enough for all of the work you've done."

I wish I could believe it. I hated the fact that I sometimes found myself becoming skeptical of Kira's rule - what if he didn't see everything I had done for him? What if a few of my deeds slipped by his eyes? Kira was busy with his tedious job: how could he focus on me when he had a world to bring out of darkness? I may have been a devote follower, but I was just one of thousands.

Nodding, I didn't give Micah any idea of my inner thoughts and lead the way back down to the main lobby-like room. The other men had gotten the same idea, gathering on various standing furniture and expressing their impure interest over what goodies the other had sniffed out. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes: they were like a bunch of brats on a scavenger hunt.

"Alright," Micah called out from just behind me, soon settling at my side as we halted. "Everybody here?"

No one answered, not that I hadn't expected as much. None of them really cared whether a few of us were left behind or not: more for those who moved on. But apparently not everyone was present at the time, for just as the question had left Micah's lips a series of thunderous, running footsteps became blatantly obvious. I wasn't worried - it had to be a few guys from the gang if they were that loud and inelegant. Two men burst into the room through a gaping hole in the wall not a moment later, huffing and puffing, recognizable but unnamed. Micah and I exchanged glances.

"H-hey... Mike," one of the men got out. I raised a brow, a bit peaved that he had called Micah such an over-used name as Mike. "There's a-a...guy...out back. 'Curled up in a...a. alley. He's a mess, man - all burned up an' unconscious..."

My eyes widened in interest. A survivor? But from what side? Was he a cop or a gangster?

It didn't matter much - either way he had information.

"Bring him with us," I announced, an unintended authority in my voice. All of the men startled from the bold testament. "Tie him up and carry him back to the hide-out. I'll deal with him then."

The two men gaped, unsure if they had just heard correctly. I wasn't much a talker, it was well known - I was more of the bitchy loner who stayed out of the others' way. But, a majority were quick to learn, when I took my place and handed out orders I expected for them to be done.

I guess the malicious glint in my narrowed eyes did the trick. The two men took off like antelopes fleeing a lioness, a few other stragglers joining them to assist in the kidnapping. I ignored both Micah's questioning stare and the other men's ogling. My gut was churning in ferocious joy. This was unbelievable - a miracle. It was just what I was looking for; exactly what I had wanted. A gift from Kira in acknowledgment for my loyalty.

I would never doubt him again.

* * *

**(A/N) Just a reminder: I moved the enormous pre-story info to the Prologue's Author's Note. Please, if you haven't read it do so :] I really want to avoid anyone feeling offended of misinformed about what I plan for this story. Thank you!**

**Also, the wait between chapters will probably remain as spaced out as this from the prologue - this is pretty much my 'I hate man kind so I have to get my feelings off my chest' story. Well, let's just say I have to be in a really dark mindset to get into this, so it will probably only be in my priorities between updates from my other stories.**

**One more thing: the names of the 'Zealots' are more random than purposeful. Don't expect their names to be any foreshadowing, because I didn't look extensively into their Biblical backgrounds - I just chose ones that I liked :/**

**Oh, and while you're here, why not leave a review?**

**;D**


	3. Chapte Two: Ethic of Reciprocity

**With These Eyes**

Chapter Two: Ethic of Reciprocity

* * *

'_This is the victory that has overcome the world - our faith.'_

- 1 John 5:4 NKJV

* * *

"Take him to Nahum," I had demanded as soon as we had reached our pathetic excuse for a home. Nahum was a name I knew I would always remember correctly - he was the only one of our members with a sense of compassion, it seemed. The older, gray-bearded man was our resident nurse of sorts, taking in any injured and acting as an angel in hell. He would be the one to deal with this burned rat.

The man was clearly in bad shape: just the smell coming off of him told me that much. I had never felt the need to light fire to leather or flesh, but if the urge ever came around I would be sure to ignore it; The stench was something terrible. He had to have been a mob member - no police agent would wear such blatantly bad-ass clothing. I almost considered having Nahum go out to the front of the wear house to treat the survivor in the dirt.

But it wouldn't matter much anyway. What was there to ruin in a pile of ruins?

That was a good five hours ago. It was nearing sunset now and to be frank I had almost forgotten about our dying guest. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts of Kira.

What did this gift mean? Why did he choose to bestow this man upon me? It could have been simply for any information he may have concerning the police destruction, but I doubted it. There had to be more. Maybe it was a sign of some kind, something abstract in its meaning: an allegory. But of what? What could this man symbolize? Did he represent pain, suffering, hope, life, death?

In the end, only one theory seemed to stick out in my mind and create a pang of realization in my gut. Did the nearly melted man signal an end to Kira's reign? Was my Lord about to be exposed to the flames and begin to deteriorate? There was an explosion coming - a great battle between Kira's children and the ignorant assholes of society. Those Pharisees would attempt to massacre my God.

I couldn't let that happen - I **wouldn't**.

This was a test - I knew it. Just as the Bible depicted of that faggot Christ, Kira knew what was about to happen; Kira was predicting an attempt of obliteration. But Kira wouldn't just take it obediently like a coward. He knew the others would try and bring him down and he was considering giving the task of his protection to _me_. The revolting male three floor below in a make-shift hospital room was Kira's assessment of my reliability - he was using the homosexual as a lesser extension of himself. If I could save that gangly mess of a man, I could save Kira. Should the man live, I would prove my worth and become something great. Kira would recognize me and honor me. I would settle by his side and join him in immortal legacy.

...My every unreachable hope and dream could become a reality if the man were to survive. I would sooner slice my own wrists than let him die. From this point on, my mission was to foster this man at all costs and keep him safe from any evils to the extent of my human being.

I smiled for the first time in years that day. I had never felt such a sense of worth or joy. I was needed. I had a chance to become a greater creature than even the gods.

I could become the confidant of Kira. His most trusted and loved disciple. His queen.

The man from the mafia _would not die_ - I wouldn't allow it. He would live and I would prosper.

I would prove and prevail.

* * *

"Is he alright?" I questioned urgently, turning the corner and nearly bumping into another woman. She looked familiar at first glance, but I couldn't be bothered to come up with a name. There were more important people for me to put an effort towards.

The woman raised a thin brow, eyes just as dark as the coal tresses flowing over her shoulders.

"Slow your roll," she muttered, obviously unconcerned. I came close to wrapping my fingers around her neck for such a careless attitude. Did she not realize how important this was? Did she think herself above the judgment of Kira? This bitch was holding me back form my task - if she got in the way I couldn't hesitate to kill her right then and there. It was part of the evaluation: Kira would put road bumps into my path and analyze my efficiency and swiftness in eliminating them.

She seemed to have sensed my aggression, rolling her eyes and twirling a piece of surprisingly silky hair. "You must mean that burn victim, right? He's doing about as well as anyone can expect. Looks like hell and smells like a septic tank, but he's breathing. Say, why do you care so much any - hey! I'm still talking here, ya know!"

She had wasted enough of my time. As soon as I had heard that the survivor was doing well I charged past her and headed towards Nahum's haven.

Without any concern for keeping peace and allowing privacy, I thrust the doors open and marched into the infirmary with determined steps. Nahum might have had a heart attack from the abrupt entrance, but my eyes were only set on a mass of blond laying motionless atop an old gurney. I almost froze for a moment, seeing that being for the first time since discovering his value. It was something surreal, as if I was gazing upon Kira himself. The moment was life-altering; breathtaking. I felt the world shift beneath my feet.

My footfalls became slower then, more paced as I neared the bed. I struggled to keep inhaling as the distance between us closed, counting down the feet in my head. Four feet, three feet, two feet...

And then I was right by his side. I was looking down at the catalyst that would propel my future. The man that would make me or break me.

He was hideous, I had to admit. Not even the truth behind his significance could convince me to think of him as anything else but a peeling mound of disgusting mutilation. I felt my lip curling, a sense of nausea pressing on the back of my throat.

"He's not very pretty, of course," a voice rasped from behind me. Startled, I jumped slightly and cast a glance back at the old man. My gaze quickly redirected back to the androgynous before me. 'Not very pretty' was an understatement - I could barely stand to keep my eyes on him at this point. Had the situation been different, I probably would have just had him killed to spare me the discomfort.

"Will he live?" I breathed, unable to take my eyes off the grotesque site before me.

"The damage is extensive," the old man prattled on, disregarding my inquiry. When I asked a question I expected it to be answered, not ignored. "The tissue has been destroyed beyond - "

_**"Will he live, Nahum?"**_

The elderly male coughed, understanding my order. "I believe so, yes. There will be no way to repair his skin, but -"

"I couldn't care less what he looks like," I cut him off, growing tired of his round-about talk and stalking out of the room again; My business here was done. "As long as he's breathing, I'm happy."

It wasn't until I reached the door when Nahum called me back.

"Miss Nazareth," he said in that brittle voice, so calm and knowing it made me want to rip his throat out. "You should know better. There is a difference between the quantity of life and the quality of life."

Snorting, I continued on my way. He needed to learn to preach to those who actually cared about what he had to say. The senile old bat had lost my interest after I had gotten the news I wanted.

"Kira, surely, would value the comfort of his people. Wouldn't you agree?"

That succeeded in halting my steps. What was he saying now?

"Just look at his message, Nazareth," the aged tone strained behind me. "Kira fights to make this world a better place. If he allowed this man to live, don't you think he did it in hopes to give him an improved life? The least we could do is help Kira's effort, after all, and make this child as comfortable and cared for as possible."

...He was absolutely right. The damned saint had proved me wrong. Kira wanted me to take care of this man in all senses. I couldn't just settle for his internal health.

I took in a deep breath through my nose. "...Make sure this man is comfortable, Nahum. I trust you'll take better care of him than anyone else could."

"Perhaps," Nahum cut in as I had prepared for another step. I lowered my foot, listening intently and cursing his inability to shut up and heed my commands without personal input. "...he should be moved to a more comfortable room, Miss Nazareth. A proper mattress would suite an injured young lad better than this hard cot."

Inwardly searing, I nodded in consent. "Have him taken to my room, then. Finish your medical treatment here while I go confiscate someone else's bed for him."

* * *

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about any objection coming from the man I decided to steal a mattress from. After asking around, I was given directions to the room of a member who had been shot down a few days ago and lugged his old sleeping pad down the hall to my quarters. Its former owner didn't need it, after all.

Nahum's treatment didn't take very long. I had only just managed to settle things when the man was carried into the room by two nameless males, Nahum following behind and directing them to the spare bedding.

"Well, he's in your hands now," Nahum nodded, gazing down at his patient with some sort of fondness. I didn't understand how he could really bare to look at him for so long - even while there was some thick paste layered onto the man's facial wound, it made him appear even more monstrous than he had been before. "There is a healing salve on his burns to help with the pain, and I've also managed to gain a small amount of Vicodin for any discomfort he may feel when he awakens."

I hadn't even thought about what would happen when he woke up. Would he have a personality or would he simply be a laconic doll controlled by Kira? Would he be able to feel pain and voice the ache when he regained consciousness? Was he a legitimate human being at all?

"If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to come to me," sympathized Nahum. I acknowledged his offer with silence, stepping over to my own mattress and sinking into the worn springs. I heard the distance sounds of Nahum taking his leave and shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone and enclosed with my treasure.

Now that he was here, right in front of me and so close, I found it hard to take my eyes off of him. What if I looked away and he disappeared? No, I had to watch over him at all times and make sure he was safe. It was my duty to Kira. As far as I was concerned, this man was Kira for the time being - a sacred soul I would live to protect. I would go above on beyond the call of duty; I would be more nurturing than any mother.

...As long as I didn't have to get too close to that gruesome scar. That was were I drew the line.

It must have been hours that I sat there, watching my gift without a word or sudden movement. By the time I cared to notice how much time I had wasted sitting here, the sky outside was nearly growing dark. In a building with no electrical connections, the sunset usually signaled that there was nothing else to do but sleep. I didn't think I could do that if I tried; Not with someone else in the room that I wasn't sure if I could trust. For all I knew, Kira had programmed this being to attempt to assassinate me.

I managed to leave the sleeping blonde's side and scrounge through a few mix-matched trunks, glancing back towards the man's bed every few seconds, until I had found a few candles and positioned them to surround the male and cast him in a haunting glow.

Snorting, I looked onto the scene with disdain. Was this really what I had resorted to? Creating an alter? It would have to do. I needed to give up my pride if it was what Kira wished of me.

* * *

It had to have been the least thrilling night of my life. Unable to sleep and unwilling to leave, I spent the full twelve hours until day break doing little more than surveying my guest. The only spark of drama that took place was the few short moments when he had opened his eyes.

My heart leapt into my throat when I saw that the man's lids were fluttering. It was the first sign of motion -of life at all- that I had seen of him. I kept my position, though, not saying a word.

They were gray, I noticed, and fogged over in an otherwordly emotion. Figuring that he was still mentally unconscious and only having some sort of bodily awakening that he wouldn't remember I allowed a shiver to pass through me without discretion. He looked more like an alien now than ever - even the burn salve that had been applied to his face added to the effect, gooing over his eyelids and creating an ocular mucus affect.

It was disturbing. I thanked Kira that he only made that action last for a moment before the man became still once more, swept away into another realm.

But maybe -hopefully- I would enjoy this being's company more when he was fully awake and more thoroughly healed. It would be the best for both of our sakes.

In the end as daybreak approached, I was at my wits end and in desperate need of some slumber of my own. Cranky and not really caring for morality at that moment, I managed to secure a length of rope and tie the man down to the bed, lest he decide to regain consciousness while I was at rest and prove himself to be some sort of zombie. Settled with the thought of him being near and bound, I got some rest of my own.

* * *

**(A/N) Just a stupid little filler that I really wasn't very into writing at all...**

**But Mello will come in for good next time, so maybe that will actually make me interested in writing this story :P**


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